02-15-2022, 04:28 PM
all of time and space, everywhere and anywhere, every star that ever was
The boiling of her blood, the many injustices she had faced (that tower around her in large teetering stacks), that endless ebb and flow of anger that turns her stars that particular livid color… It all makes her on edge, thoughtless, and reactive as well. That’s where their similarities end. For she doesn’t enjoy the friction, doesn’t enjoy the madness that turns her further and further away from the girl she had once been, the star she had thought she was. She doesn’t enjoy the viper that seems to be permanently attached to her tongue, had spent far too many hours locked in that glacier thinking of the tears in Nashua’s mother’s eyes. Tears that she had caused to someone who had not deserved her wild and rash outrage.
It seems a cruel mockery now, the task the fairy from the Mountain had requested in exchange for finding out once and for all if she was a star or not. Protect four others without the use of magic, what a joke. It had never been about the magic, having given that up once the Curse had stained her power. No, it was a cruel irony to try and protect others when she couldn’t protect herself, couldn’t alleviate that red storm that never stops raging inside of her, couldn’t do anything but dig herself into deeper and deeper holes. Perhaps that had been the fae’s plan all along, perhaps she had never been meant to unlock the truth. Perhaps no matter what she had been… It didn’t matter anymore.
In death, she had found only oppressive black silence. Nothing more. No welcome back into the sky, no shining brilliance and warmth. It had hurt her more than the phantom lighting she still feels flickering in her chest where the Curse had hidden his own mockery of a heart… Only to rip it back out. Hurt more than the broken heart she had carried for two dragons, hurt more than being ripped away from her only child. The Curse had taken her optimism, her hope, her purpose, and in a matter of seconds had destroyed it all.
So she doesn’t care what the stranger does, if she follows her like an unwanted puppy or not. If she stains the snow around them with her blood, if she calls the Isle the most offensive things she can think of, if she wanders off a cliff, if she continues her annoying persistent questioning… She doesn’t care. There was no point. Love and life itself was pointless and this striped creature was no exception. The thought of kicking her does cross her mind but she finds she doesn’t have the energy to do so anyways. She is still too thin, too tired from being imprisoned in the ice, too exhausted just in getting here from the meadow. Instead, she looks over her shoulder and flat out laughs, something dark and hard, at what she sees there. The polar bear fur that now covers her body, a shifter… Of course.
She was so fucking sick of shifters.
A single metallic eye finds the strangers gaze, the other hidden beneath her tangled raven forelock. There is no humor there, nor is there any fear. If this was meant to be an intimidation tactic then the stranger would find herself sorely disappointed. It would take more than a simple bear to unnerve her. Not after everything else she had faced. “Does it look like I have time to babysit you?” She asks in a deathly quiet type of way. To make it clear she’s not expecting an answer, she turns back to her path without another word. Raising her starlit wings over her back to avoid the thick snow, she begins to plow through it with her frostbitten body. Every step is painful to the point that her eyes water with unshed tears that freeze long before they can escape and yet she continues on. There is no glance back to see if the other had ended up following her or not although one dark ear does flick back after a few minutes to see if it catches the crunch of hooves behind her.
It seems a cruel mockery now, the task the fairy from the Mountain had requested in exchange for finding out once and for all if she was a star or not. Protect four others without the use of magic, what a joke. It had never been about the magic, having given that up once the Curse had stained her power. No, it was a cruel irony to try and protect others when she couldn’t protect herself, couldn’t alleviate that red storm that never stops raging inside of her, couldn’t do anything but dig herself into deeper and deeper holes. Perhaps that had been the fae’s plan all along, perhaps she had never been meant to unlock the truth. Perhaps no matter what she had been… It didn’t matter anymore.
In death, she had found only oppressive black silence. Nothing more. No welcome back into the sky, no shining brilliance and warmth. It had hurt her more than the phantom lighting she still feels flickering in her chest where the Curse had hidden his own mockery of a heart… Only to rip it back out. Hurt more than the broken heart she had carried for two dragons, hurt more than being ripped away from her only child. The Curse had taken her optimism, her hope, her purpose, and in a matter of seconds had destroyed it all.
So she doesn’t care what the stranger does, if she follows her like an unwanted puppy or not. If she stains the snow around them with her blood, if she calls the Isle the most offensive things she can think of, if she wanders off a cliff, if she continues her annoying persistent questioning… She doesn’t care. There was no point. Love and life itself was pointless and this striped creature was no exception. The thought of kicking her does cross her mind but she finds she doesn’t have the energy to do so anyways. She is still too thin, too tired from being imprisoned in the ice, too exhausted just in getting here from the meadow. Instead, she looks over her shoulder and flat out laughs, something dark and hard, at what she sees there. The polar bear fur that now covers her body, a shifter… Of course.
She was so fucking sick of shifters.
A single metallic eye finds the strangers gaze, the other hidden beneath her tangled raven forelock. There is no humor there, nor is there any fear. If this was meant to be an intimidation tactic then the stranger would find herself sorely disappointed. It would take more than a simple bear to unnerve her. Not after everything else she had faced. “Does it look like I have time to babysit you?” She asks in a deathly quiet type of way. To make it clear she’s not expecting an answer, she turns back to her path without another word. Raising her starlit wings over her back to avoid the thick snow, she begins to plow through it with her frostbitten body. Every step is painful to the point that her eyes water with unshed tears that freeze long before they can escape and yet she continues on. There is no glance back to see if the other had ended up following her or not although one dark ear does flick back after a few minutes to see if it catches the crunch of hooves behind her.
-- Ciri
@Arrowe